


Hopefully Forever

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Conflict, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Feelings, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Other, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Sad, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: A misunderstanding between friends leads to conflict and jealousy.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod & Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	Hopefully Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by the lovely Loveless00.

The atmosphere in the Bunker was dark, somber, as if the sky had turned gray and poured down a never-ending stream of rain. There was no usual chatter, no inappropriate jokes and the barking of laughter you usually found immensely annoying and now yearned for. Yearned for normalcy because this was not normal, far from it, and you hated it.

Unease roiled in your stomach like a whirlpool, your shoulders tense with discomfort. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go home, far away from the gloominess, though, at this point, you were certain it would follow you anywhere you went.

Jack was dead. The rupture to Hell had been closed. Runaway ghosts returned to their rightful place. There was a problem with Belphegor absorbing the souls and attempting to make himself god, but that, too, had been dealt with. The fight was intense, brutal. It had taken a lot out of everyone. By the time you, Rowena, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had arrived at the Bunker, you were all collectively exhausted.

The sun was bright in the sky the entire trip, shining in your eyes even as you leaned on Rowena's shoulder and closed your eyes in a feeble attempt to rest them. Clouds were pearly white, sky the brightest, most beautiful blue. There was irony in that, as if God himself were playing an elaborate joke.

Given what you'd found out these past few days, you wouldn't put it past him.

An attempt at celebration was made, whiskey taken out and offered, but no one was in a party mood. Least of all Sam and Dean. It was understandable; they'd only just lost a boy who's been a son to them. Lost him to a man — a being — they trusted, only to end up betrayed. Who would have thought God, of all people, could be evil?

You were never a big fan, but that one time you'd met him years ago he seemed nice enough. Friendly. Nowhere near evil. Amara had been right back then (well, aside from the whole ending the world thing). You'd teamed up with the wrong deity.

"You alright?" you asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few hours.

Rowena, exhausted, eyes framed with midnight crescents as if she'd been struck, gave a small nod. "Aye."

You could tell she wasn't, though, given everything that happened, she was as okay as she could be. The fight had taken a toll on her. At one point, when all hope seemed lost at defeating Belphegor, she'd offered a sacrifice of her life, but you were quick to put a stop to it. Before Sam could even consider acting on their fate, you'd made it clear she wasn't dying — and, if she somehow did, Sam would be joining her soon after. Knowing you meant every word, she dropped the subject.

Accidents were one thing. But no matter how much you appreciated Sam for all he'd done for Rowena, how kindly he'd treated her, you would never let him live if he were to take her from you on purpose. Even if she were to give her blessing. You weren't going to lose her; not again, and certainly not for good. Not without consequences.

In the end, through everyone's joint efforts, Belphegor had been taken care of. Without a single life lost.

You squeezed Rowena's hand and pulled her to stand closer. Sitting in a chair, your head perfectly fit against her stomach. She let you nestle, her other hand caressing first your cheek and then your scalp.

"Are you?" she asked in that gentle tone that was so unlike her, that she reserved only for when the two of you were alone. Considering no one paid you any attention, you might as well be.

"Yeah. Just tired."

You would have headed straight home, but Lawrence was closer than the town you were in, so you decided to hitch a ride with the boys.

"We'll go home soon," Rowena said.

"Mmhm," you mumbled, comfortable despite the unpleasant fabric of her dress. You'd told her it was a ridiculous thing to get changed into, amidst a fight no less, but there was no changing her mind.

"We should have a toast," Sam suddenly said, startling you from your thoughts. He raised his glass of whiskey. "For Jack."

Everyone followed almost automatically, glassed up in the air.

"For Jack," Dean said, gulping the entire glass.

"For Jack," Castiel said with a nod, not one for drinks.

Rowena, too, joined in. "For Jack."

As did you. "For Jack."

The drink burned at your throat. You set your glass aside, face scrunched at the unpleasant taste.

Rowena, the experienced Scot, downed hers without issue.

"He was a good kid," Sam said. "We… we couldn't have asked for better."

That he was. You were no fan of kids, but there was something about Jack that made you like him. He was just… sweet. Kind. Good-natured, despite his parentage. Even after he'd lost his soul, he'd tried to do good. He'd done bad things, had made bad choices, but never intentionally. Never maliciously.

"He wasn't perfect, but he was our son," Sam said, eyes red with tears. "We loved him."

"That we did," Dean agreed, refilling his glass and gulping the contents.

Rowena's eyes prickled, almost as crimson as Sam's. You squeezed her hand in comfort. She wasn't the boy's biggest fan initially, but all it took for her to fall in love with him were a few kind words and a smile. He'd won her over in an instant. She would never admit to it, but you could tell she saw a bit of Fergus in him. The son she'd lost, that she'd abandoned. The son she would never forgive herself for not being able to see grow up.

Jack had lost his soul in order to get Michael out of her. In a way, she felt responsible. No matter how many times you assured her it wasn't her fault, she was adamant she bore part of the blame.

"He'll never be forgotten," Castiel said.

"No," Sam said, tears falling down his face. "He will not. We'll never…" He put his glass down. Gulped. Sucked in a breath.

"Sam?" Dean inquired, worried.

Shaking his head, Sam rushed past him. Past Castiel, and you, and Rowena, and up to the bedrooms.

Your heart clenched. Poor man. He'd tried so hard to save Jack, had fought so hard, only to lose him when he least expected it. It wasn't fair.

As you'd come to know in these past few years, life was rarely, if ever, fair. Fate, a cold-hearted bitch, had a tendency to strike the blindside. Sneak up like a criminal and hit where it hurt the most.

"I've got this," Rowena said when Dean started after his brother, holding her hand up to stop him. She lowered her glass next to yours and told you, "I'll be back in a flash, love."

A kiss to your scalp, and she was gone.

It made sense that she, of all people, would talk to Sam. It was him that had noticed she was hurting after her ordeal at Lucifer's hands. It was him that had given her a safe space to talk about it, and had, for the first time ever, opened up about his own trauma. It was him that had first given her a chance, when his brother had thought her nothing but a wicked villain.

The two of you loved each other, truly, deeply, but you could never understand her the way Sam did. It was a blessing, in a way; you'd never suffered the way they had, had never experienced that kind of agony. But you would be lying if you said you didn't wish you could comprehend it.

Now that Sam had lost a son, it was yet another thing the two of them had in common. Yet another thing you couldn't relate to.

Another blessing, as far as you were concerned, and, at the same time, a curse. Because, instead of being here, holding your hand, letting you lean on her, letting you feel her, she was there with him. You'd almost lost her mere hours earlier, and she was with him.

It was a selfish thought, and you instantly chastised yourself for it. She'd gone to comfort a friend, as he had in the past. She didn't have to spend every waking moment with you.

It wasn't healthy to want her to.

But, in some strange way, you were already missing her.

* * *

Rowena walked in without waiting for a response for her knock and tenderly closed the door behind her. Sam was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, face hidden in his hands. If he took notice of her presence, he didn't show it. Didn't make a sound, a single gasp or a groan.

"Samuel?" Rowena said softly. The same way he'd said her name back when he'd decided to approach the issue of Lucifer, when he'd noticed she was hurting.

He was the one hurting now, and she wanted to return the favour.

You'd been there for her since day one and she appreciated it immensely. You'd held her hand, held _her_ as she cried and wept and sobbed. You'd woken to her screams countless times in the middle of the night and whispered sweet nothings until she'd felt safe again. You'd stood by her, comforted her, loved her at her very worst, at her ugliest. Had never once given up on her, no matter how hard it was. No matter how bad the memories of her horrifying death had hit her.

You'd been there through it all.

But you didn't understand. You couldn't, having never endured anything remotely like it. Rowena was grateful for that, had hoped you would never even come close to understanding what she'd been going through. What she was still, even years later, going through.

Sam, on the other hand, knew exactly what it was like. He'd experienced Lucifer's cruelty first hand. Even though they were enemies, he didn't hesitate to offer her advice, to extend a helping hand. For a hunter, the man was kind to a fault. He'd had no issue talking to her about his experiences. Had no qualms about answering her calls when she couldn't fall asleep and didn't have the heart to wake you — and why would she? As much as you wanted to help, you didn't get it. You would — Rowena hoped; gods, she hoped — never get it.

Sam did. He had advice. A listening ear. Just hearing that soft "I know" every time she'd describe a new nightmare, a new feeling of dread, made Rowena feel better. Made her feel less alone for there was someone else out there, someone just like her.

Were it not for you and Sam, she doubted she would have managed to keep her sanity.

"Everything's fine," the hunter muttered, wiping at his face with his calloused hands. "I'm fine."

Just like she was _fine_ after Lucifer. He might fool his brother with that nonsense, but Rowena knew better. She knew him better.

"Bottling it up will only make it worse," she said.

She would know; she'd kept her emotions in, had forced herself to not react, to not feel, until she got her power back and decided she couldn't — didn't want to — keep it in anymore. Until she'd exploded, literally, at Death herself.

"When I lost Fergus…" She gulped. Swallowed down a rush of sadness, of guilt that still ate at her like acid. Of all the things she'd done, she would never forgive herself the wrong she'd done her son. "When I heard of his demise, I completely lost my direction. And, well, you know how that went down."

She still wanted him back. Gods, she wanted it. Wanted her second chance. Hated herself, this world, God himself because she would never get it.

"It's okay to feel."

It was something you always told her, drilled into her, despite her conviction against it, until it stuck. She'd spent so much time, so many centuries, not feeling, that feeling was scary. It chilled her bones. It hurt. But it was necessary. It was what made her human.

"Jack was a lovely boy." The loveliest. Rowena wasn't a fan until she'd met him, until he spoke so kindly to her and gave her that smile that melted all the ice in her heart. Unlike what she'd thought, he was nothing like his father. He was a good person. A good boy. Another child she'd allowed herself to care for and lost because that appeared to be her curse. "You raised him well."

Sam raised his head. Allowed himself a sliver of a smile. "He was a good kid."

"He was," Rowena agreed. "You did your best for him."

The hunter shook his head. "It wasn't enough. He's still…"

_He's still dead._

"You can't save everyone, Sam," Rowena told him.

"He was my son! I should've…" More tears fell. He wiped at them with his sleeve. "I should've done more."

Carefully, Rowena stepped towards him. Laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You were there for him." Unlike her with Fergus. "You cherished him. You _loved_ him." The things she didn't allow herself to do until it was too late. Until it didn't matter anymore. "Wherever he is now, I'm sure he appreciates it."

Unlike Fergus, Jack went to his death loved. He wasn't alone; in his few short years of life, he'd never been alone. He'd never been abandoned.

Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah. I just… He should be here. He didn't deserve to die."

"Children never do," Rowena said. Not even when they were centuries old and rulers of Hell. No parent wanted to lose their child.

Sam looked up at her, wounded puppy eyes meeting hers. Devastated. Broken. "Rowena, what am I supposed to do?"

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She'd asked you the same thing once, a sobbing, shaking mess in your arms, guilt rummaging her from the inside out. "Keep living," you'd told her. "He'd want you to." And she did. No matter how much it hurt, she kept on living. She allowed herself to smile again, to laugh. To feel joy, even as grief was tearing her apart.

She didn't have to forget Fergus to move on.

She just needed to accept that he was gone.

"Keep living," Rowena said. "Jack wouldn't want you to suffer, would he? Keep him here." She brushed her hand against his scalp. "And here." Then his heart. "But don't let these feelings hold you down. You're a survivor, Sam Winchester. So _survive."_

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Easier said than done."

"Och, aye. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."

It was hard, but he could do it. Just like she had done it. She'd fought tooth and nail for it; fought herself, her heart, but in the end she'd managed to get her life back as much as she could.

A fresh batch of tears spilled from Sam's eyes. In a trembling voice, he muttered, "I miss him."

"Och, dear, I know." Rowena squeezed his shoulder in comfort. "I know."

His arms were suddenly around her waist, and, before she could react, he buried his face in her stomach and wept. A giant of a man, and he wept like an inconsolable child. Tears drenched the fabric of her dress, the cold brushing over her skin.

Rowena stood still, startled. Unsure how to respond. It was one thing when it was you, but this was Sam. Big, strong Sam. The fearless hunter. Her best — and only — friend in the world.

"It's okay, Sam," she said, patting his back. Rubbing gentle circles over it.

She let him hold onto her. Let him cry his eyes out and drench her dress. Let him seek comfort the way she'd sought his. He was fragile, a porcelain doll of a man. Easy to crumble. Trying his hardest not to, even as cracks enveloped his body.

Losing a child was the hardest thing a parent could endure. Even centuries earlier, when she'd forbid herself from loving Fergus, when she'd left him without a shred of regret, the news of his — first, human — death had pierced her heart like nothing before ever had. It was one thing to leave him, one thing to know he was among the living, but to find out he was no longer there? That he no longer breathed the same air, walked the same earth, looked at the same moon? It was too much even for the cold, heartless Rowena.

Losing him two years ago had hit twice as hard. This time she'd allowed herself to feel… something. _Love,_ she'd realized, much too late. The thing that used to scare her, that she'd thought made her weak. She loved him now — she really did, more than she thought she was capable of. The way she should have loved him when he was a child. She'd gotten a second chance, and she'd managed to blow it.

It only made her miss him more.

Despite the hardened man he'd grown into, Fergus had been a gentle child. He was soft spoken, shy. Had loved to be held. Preferred to curl up against her rather than sleep on his own cot, no matter how cruel she was. No matter how much she hurt him.

Rowena would never forgive herself for not doing right by him.

Sam, at the very least, had that in his favour. No matter what, he'd never given up on Jack. Had never hurt him. Even when it was hard, when Jack had lost his soul and did horrible things, Sam never stopped loving him.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sam pulled away and started rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed of falling apart in the arms of a person he never thought he'd get to call his friend. "I didn't mean to, you know…"

"It's fine," Rowena shrugged him off. Put on a friendly smile. "Good thing you didn't off me, isn't it?"

The hunter gave a small smile. "Definitely."

They joked about it now, but, at the time, Rowena was more than willing to put her life on the line. After all, everything fit — a demon mad with hunger for power, Sam, her. The prophecy fate had foretold, of her death at his hands. It was perfect. It was _magic._ And, if there was anything Rowena believed in, it was magic.

Had you not stepped in, had Dean and Castiel not found another way, things would have played out as intended. As fate said they would.

Rowena was okay with that. The last thing she wanted was to leave you, but if all the cards were right, if she could make the world safe for you to live in even at the cost of her not being in it anymore, she wouldn't regret a thing. No matter how much you hated her. Magic came first.

 _You_ came first.

"I'll kill you," you'd said — spat, bitterly, venomously — as Rowena had shoved the knife in Sam's hands. "I swear to god, you lay one hand on her, and you're dead."

"Y/N—" Rowena had tried, only to be cut off.

"No! I'm not losing you. I can't. Either you both live, or you both die. I don't give a damn about fate, or the world. You're the most important thing in my life, and I'm not gonna let some _hunter_ take you from me just because you say it's fine. It's not fine with _me."_

Rowena knew you would do it. You wouldn't hesitate, not for a moment, to avenge her. Even if she was okay with dying. Even if she'd resigned to her fate.

You loved her too much for your own good. The fact both flattered and frightened her.

Sam got to his feet. Sucked in a large breath. He was a giant of a man, towering over her, but still broken. Still a sad wee thing. Not a single intimidating bone in him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About that. I didn't wanna kill you."

She didn't exactly want to die, either.

"I don't know what I would've done if it had come to that."

He would probably be dead, sipping martinis down with her in Hell.

Rowena decided to keep that particular comment to herself.

"I still mean what I said back then," he said with such determination Rowena didn't have the heart to squash. "I want to change our fate."

The truth was, it couldn't be changed. They could try, but she doubted there would be results. Fate was a clever thing; it took what it wanted, exactly the way it wanted. Rowena doubted she and Sam would be one of the few lucky enough to trick it.

She strived for it, but she didn't allow herself to hope. She couldn't for hope had done nothing but lie through its pearly white teeth.

"Me, too," Rowena said. And she did, she truly wanted it. She just didn't think it would accomplish much.

It was worth a try, though. Anything that allowed her to be with you, to have you for more than just a few measly years, was worth at least a consideration.

"I don't wanna lose you," Sam said.

Rowena offered him a smile, one of those that reciprocated his words without her having to utter a single one of her own. You were the love of her life, but she needed someone on the outside. Someone who knew what it was like to live in fear and wake up soaked in sweat.

She needed a friend.

"You're getting sappy, Winchester," she teased.

"Sorry," Sam said with a flicker of a smile. A tease of his own. "I just… I really like having you around."

"Likewise," she told him. He was a good person. Gentle. Kind. Witches and hunters weren't meant to be friends, yet here they were, defying odds. Hoping to defy fate, as well.

If they didn't make it, if fate played out as it was supposed to, at the very least you wouldn't be alone. You and the Winchesters weren't the best of friends, but they would be there for you. They would protect you, if any rogue hunters were to come calling.

Rowena would be leaving you in safe hands.

"But don't tell anyone I said that," she joked. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"You got it," Sam said with a chuckle.

He stepped toward her. Laid his hands — his massive, calloused hands — on her shoulders; a surprisingly tender gesture for a giant such as him. His eyes fell on hers, soft and lovely. A warm smile grazed his face, lit it up in spite of the tears still drying on his cheeks.

Rowena stared, frozen. Not daring to move for she feared it would make everything worse. He was going to hug her, wasn't he? He was going to wrap his arms around her and envelop her in a bone-crushing hug like the bloody sap that he was, and there wasn't a thing in the world she could do about it.

Oh, well. As much as it disgusted her, it was just a hug. It was a thing friends did. She would survive. So long as nobody saw.

It had taken her a while to get used to your hugs, and even more so to allow herself to initiate them. Maybe it was time that she stopped averting hugs from friends, as well.

It was a human gesture, she reminded herself. It wasn't a weakness. It didn't hurt. Just the opposite — it was a sign of love. She didn't have to throw her arms around every person that smiled at her or engage in sweet talk with strangers.

She could hug a friend, in private, away from prying eyes.

She mentally prepared herself, readied her arms to lock around Sam's back, but the embrace never came. Instead, the hunter's eyes fell to her lips, and so did his mouth, and before she could process what was going on, he was kissing her, full force, tongue breaking in.

Rowena shoved him off with all the strength she could muster. "Samuel," she said, completely and utterly baffled, "what in hell are you doing?"

"Yeah, _Samuel,"_ you said from the doorway, a storm brewing in your eyes. Furious. Deadly. "What in hell are you doing?"

As if things weren't already bad enough.

_Bollocks!_

* * *

There were only so many stories about Jack you could listen to without tearing up. You weren't close to the boy, but, damn, all the little anecdotes Dean and Castiel shared about him made him feel like family.

It wasn't a hard feat to accomplish; he was a good person, a good kid. Easy to love and get along with. The only Winchester (well, technically) you genuinely liked to be around.

"There he was," Dean was saying, lips twitching with humor, "flipping through Busty Asian Beauties with this confused look on his face. When I snatched it back, he asked why they were all naked. Sam was pissed I left my magazine out in the open, but, man, it was worth it." His face turned dark, somber. He finished what had to have been his fifth glass of scotch. "It was worth the memory."

It surely was. It was weird how random things, however meaningless, seemingly insignificant, made for some of the best memories. Like that time Rowena had gotten up on her tiptoes to grab something from a higher shelf and spilled the contents all over herself. Or the time she was teaching you a spell and you'd turned your hair purple on accident — and had kept the color until it faded naturally, much to Rowena's utmost annoyance.

Every moment mattered. However small, it had value once it became a memory. Once the person you shared it with was gone, forever.

You took a sip of your drink and grimaced at the taste, but gulped it down in stride. It was easy once you got the hang of it. Once it started making the reminiscing more bearable, started making your eyes stop welling up with tears you were barely holding back.

These were private moments. Intimate. Meant for family which you would never be part of. It felt wrong to listen in on the grief, to intrude on it.

You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted to go home.

You wanted _Rowena._

She'd been gone an awful while, and you were missing her immensely. What was going on with her and Sam? Had the hunter fallen apart — literally — and she had to reassemble the pieces, one little bit at the time?

You understood he needed comfort, understood Rowena's need to provide it, but it was taking too long. Way longer than it usually took them to talk.

It would be rude to interrupt. But, at the same time, it would be rude to stay here, to invade on someone's grief. To sit around awkwardly while they shared memories that meant everything to them, and not a single thing to you.

You were tired. Overwhelmed. Events from earlier still replaying in your head, an endless rerun of fear and desperation. All you wanted was to curl up with Rowena — in your house, in your bed — and fall asleep to the gentle beats of her heart.

Finishing your drink, you rose up to your feet and headed for Sam's room. If Dean and Castiel noticed your absence, they didn't comment on it, lost in their reminiscing.

The hallway was quiet. Not a single noise within earshot; not a mosquito, not a fly. It was weird, but a welcome sensation nonetheless. Silence beat the quacking of crowds and the sounds of busy traffic. One of the reasons you used to hate staying in hotels Rowena loved. They were lovely, the highest of class, but there were too many people. Too much noise.

It had been a struggle to convince Rowena to settle down in the suburbs. She'd only relented once you'd agreed for it to be a wealthy one. The woman was nothing if not classy.

Sam's room was silent. There was no muttering, no soft, hushed voices. No noise of movement. You knocked shyly, once, twice. Had they gone somewhere else to talk? If they had, where? The bunker was large; there were rooms you'd never been to. Rooms you were pretty sure Sam and Dean themselves had never been to.

They could be anywhere.

You felt your phone in your pocket, prepared to use it if Rowena weren't here, and then slowly pushed the door open.

You expected to find them sitting in silence. Expected to find Rowena whispering words of comfort, and Sam with his face buried in his hands. Hell, expected an empty room.

Expected anything — everything — other than the two of them standing close to each other, so close their bodies brushed together. His hands on her shoulders, holding her steady, in place. His eyes on her mouth, his lips connecting with hers.

Rowena pushed him away and said, "Samuel, what in hell are you doing?"

Your teeth clenched. Hands balled into tight fists. Stomach churned with unease, with anger that bubbled and boiled. Magic burned in your veins, ready to break free at your command. Ready to attack, to obliterate its target.

"Yeah, _Samuel."_ You spat the name like it was filth, the worst of poisons. "What in hell are you doing?"

Startled, Rowena spun toward you. Her face, pale as that of a ghost, was pure shock. Fear for you were certain she knew what was to come. She knew _you._

"In fact," you hissed at her, "what in hell have _you_ been doing?"

You didn't want to imagine the possible scenarios, didn't want those images in your head, but they kept coming. Sam and Rowena's hands twined together. Lips locked in a kiss. Mouths wide in smiles. Lost in each other, Dean and Castiel and Jack forgotten.

 _You_ forgotten.

You shook the thoughts off. Tears prickled at your eyes; you willed them back, didn't dare let them fall. _It's not real,_ you told yourself. _It didn't happen._

But what if it had? What if their bond — their unique, impenetrable bond — drew them to each other more than it already had? What if it made them realize they were it for each other, soulmates forged in pain, in trauma no one but the two of them could comprehend?

They'd both suffered under Lucifer. They'd both lost a child. They understood each other better than anyone could ever understand them; understood each other's grief, struggle to sleep at night.

It would only be natural for them to fall for each other.

You'd loved Rowena for years, but you couldn't measure up to Sam. You couldn't protect her. Couldn't comfort her the way she deserved. Couldn't understand the pain she was going through daily, even now, years after her horrid death at Lucifer's hands.

Sam could. He knew exactly what it was like. He could give her advice on how to deal with it, teach her to cope.

All you ever did was hug her, tell her you loved her, and hope for the best.

It wasn't enough. You weren't enough.

"Nothing," Rowena said. "I've done nothing. This isn't—"

"I-I'm sorry," Sam said. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't… I didn't mean to..."

"What, shove your tongue down her throat?" you snapped.

"No, that's not—"

You cut him off sharply. "I have eyes, Sam!"

"There was no tongue," Rowena said.

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

Tears spilled down your face, defying your containment. A part of you always knew something like this would happen. Rowena was too big of a person, too grand, too powerful to settle for a lowly witch such as yourself. It was only a matter of time before she decided she'd had enough and moved on to someone better.

You were an idiot to think it would last forever.

Rowena sighed, then, sucking in a deep breath, looked you in the eyes. "Nothing happened, Y/N. I promise."

There was sincerity in her tone. Honesty. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe nothing had happened.

But…

"I know what I saw," you said.

He'd kissed her. He'd held her, and looked at her, and kissed her, and he'd meant it. She'd pushed him away, but that didn't change the fact that his lips captured hers in a way they shouldn't have. Not while you were dating her. Not while she was your girlfriend.

"She's telling you the truth," Sam said. You whipped a glare at him, and he held his hands up in a placating matter. "I misunderstood the situation and I kissed her, but she — she pushed me away. She didn't do anything. It's on me. I swear."

You scowled. Looked from him to Rowena, back and forth as his words settled in.

"Is that a habit for you, kissing other people's girlfriends?" you spat bitterly. "I've heard rumors about your _unconventional_ dating history, but holy shit!"

Sam ignored the remark. "It was an acc—"

"Oh, don't bullshit me!" you snapped.

"Y/N—" Rowena tried.

You held up a hand. "No! He doesn't get to bullshit his way out of this."

Talking to her, giving her assurance in the middle of the night when she couldn't fall asleep was one thing. You didn't like it, but you knew it was necessary. Rowena needed a friend. Needed someone who knew what she was going through, who could comfort her in ways you couldn't. Needed a good, loyal friend.

She didn't need another lover.

"Darling, please," she said softly, placatingly. "Calm down."

You stared at her, incredulous. "Why are you defending him? Did you want to kiss him?"

"Would I have pushed him away if I did?"

"You tell me."

She sighed, frustrated. "Goodness, lass! Are you hearing yourself?"

"Am I supposed to be okay with my girlfriend making out with her best friend?"

"We were not making out!"

"We weren't," Sam confirmed. "She was there. She was nice to me, a-and I just… I don't know why I did it."

"You did it because you wanted to!" you screamed, and, as your anger flared, so did your magic. Without you even having to shout out an _Abi,_ a force knocked Sam backwards and slammed him into the wall.

If he didn't want to kiss her, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have laid his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with lust in his eyes. Wouldn't have tried to make excuses.

You should have known it would lead to this. Their bond was strong; it was only a matter of time before one of them caught feelings. Intense friendships like that didn't stay friendships for long.

To think you used to encourage it. Despite your unease at Rowena spending time with the man fated to kill her, you'd encouraged her to talk to him. Encouraged her to open up, to be herself with the one person in the whole wide world who knew what it was like to live with that kind of trauma.

And for what? For him to try to take her from you?

"Y/N!" Rowena exclaimed, startled by your outburst. "Calm down, love. It's okay."

"None of this is okay!" you yelled.

The cupboards and closets shook as your magic pulsated, wild, unstable. Drawers rattled. Lights flickered.

"You have a right to be upset," Rowena said, taking a careful step toward you. Two. Three. Her eyes trailed the trembling furniture before settling back on you. "But you need to calm down, darling. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

You wanted to do plenty of things you would regret, needed to do them, the urge so strong it hurt to resist it, but she was right. You needed to calm down.

For your sake. For Rowena's.

It had been an eventful day. Draining. A rollercoaster of emotions. You had no issue with hurting Sam, no issue with killing him for you'd already wanted to do so earlier, but it didn't take a genius to know harming a hunter in his own home, with his aggressive, overprotective brother and an angelic friend inside.

It would be suicide.

A part of you didn't care, though. A part of you wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him pay for wanting to take away the one person you'd had left in your life. Sam had lost Jack, but he still had a family. He had Dean, and Castiel, and Eileen, and Jody, and Donna.

You, on the other hand, only had Rowena.

No matter what he was feeling, how caught up in the moment he was, he had no right to try to take her from you.

"What the hell's going on here?" Dean demanded, running toward you with Castiel in tow. His eyes fell on Sam, grimacing on the flood, cheeks streak with tears, then shifted to Rowena, and finally to you. "What happened?"

His tone was more an order than a question. He demanded an answer, and he would get it.

A childish part of you wanted to counter him just to be difficult. Instead, you said, "You raised Sam, right? Should've taught him not to touch things that aren't his."

"What are you talking about?" Another demand, no less firm than the first.

You brushed the tears clouding your eyes. Cursed the new ones that instantly replaced them. "Ask him."

Settling one final flare upon the younger Winchester, you turned on your heel and walked out. You couldn't stay here anymore. Couldn't stay in this room, in this Bunker. Couldn't breathe any more of this stale air.

You felt your magic subside, a raging storm fading into a warm summer breeze. You could have killed him for what he'd done, what he'd tried to do. Should have killed him.

If it were anyone else, you would have.

You hoped you wouldn't come to regret it.

* * *

Well, that certainly was, as people today tended to say, a shiteshow.

Rowena breathed in, deep and hard. Her racing heart slowed, muscles sprung free from the tension. This certainly wasn't the maddest thing you'd caught her doing, but it was bloody near the top.

She knew how uneasy you were about Sam. Knew you disapproved of their friendship, of them being anywhere near each other ever since you'd found out he was fated to kill her. You wanted her safe, away from danger, but you didn't complain. You knew she needed someone like Sam in her life, and you didn't want to try to take him away from her.

Only to walk in on him kissing her.

Rowena couldn't blame you for your reaction. It was extreme, yes, but so was the situation. It wasn't every day that you walked in on your girlfriend's best friend kissing her.

She would have been angry, as well. She would have caused an even worse scene.

"Sam are you okay?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine," Sam said, rising back to his feet.

Dean's eyes whipped around from him to Rowena, confused, angry. He eyed the shifted furniture, the drawers that had fallen open as slivers of your magic roamed the room. "What the hell happened?"

It was a long story, one Rowena wasn't willing to tell. Not now, after everything. She sighed. "I'm afraid we are going to have to cut our visit short."

Castiel tilted his head. "Why?"

Sam's eyes, uncertain, hurt, shifted to Rowena. She instantly looked away, avoiding his stare. She wasn't going to talk about it. Not now. The two of them needed to talk, needed to settle this mess his so-called misunderstanding had gotten them into, but Rowena needed to sort it out with you, first.

The last thing she wanted was for you to think she wanted Sam to kiss her. She cared about him, she did, but you were the one she loved. You were the one who'd taught her it was okay to love, that it wasn't a weakness. That she was still capable of it.

That she still deserved to be loved.

She would be an idiot to throw it all away for a hunter.

She felt for Sam; it wasn't easy to lose a child. It was only natural for him to seek comfort in her. But not like this. The two of them would never be anything more than friends.

"Rowena—" he started, but she put her hand up, cutting whatever it was he wanted to say off. She didn't want to hear it. Not now.

"We'll talk later," she said in a tone that left no room for argument. She shot him a look that said as much, softer than a glare but still intense. Still clear that, as much as she understood his vulnerability, she wasn't happy with what he'd done.

Her heels clicked as she stormed down the hallway, eyes flying wildly and up to the library to pick up her bag. The Bunker was unusually quiet, damp air colder, atmosphere gloomier than earlier. Rowena spotted her glass, undisturbed where she'd left it earlier, refilled it, and gulped the contents down.

Some liquid courage wouldn't hurt.

She found you outside, leaning on the railing, eyes glued to the road.

"There you are!"

You didn't look at her, didn't move a single muscle. Instead, you simply said, "The cab'll be here soon."

The coldness of your tone stung like a slap to the face. She was certain a slap would hurt less. "You called a taxi already?"

You shrugged. "Figured you'll either come, or you won't."

"Well, I'm here."

"Good for you."

Rowena supposed she should have seen that coming. She walked up to the railing and lowered her bag to the ground. "Y/N, we should talk."

"Maybe," you said, feigning nonchalance. Voice breaking at the edges for, no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide your emotions from her. You weren't _that_ good a liar.

"I really didn't want Sam to kiss me," she said. Poured all her honesty, all her emotions, raw and pulsating, into those words. She wanted you to know she meant it. Needed you to believe it, to believe her.

She loved you with all her heart, in ways she'd never loved anyone before.

Losing Fergus' father had turned her heart cold and cruel.

Losing you would kill her.

She would never do anything to risk it. Would never do anything — would never dare — to hurt you to the point you wanted to leave. Not on purpose. She hoped you knew her enough to know that.

You said nothing. Did nothing, made not a single movement. Your eyes remained glued to the road as if you were in a trance.

Rowena's heart sank. It broke her to see you like that. You had every right to be upset, to be angry, but it hurt to be treated to nothing but silence. She would prefer to be yelled at, to be insulted and cursed at out loud, to nothingness.

"We were just talking," she said when the silence got too long, too much to handle. Too suffocating to breathe. "About Jack. About what we've lost. I suppose he took it the wrong way." Wasn't that an understatement of the century? Sam owed her an explanation, and she hoped he had a good one. As hurt as he was, he had no right to do this to her. No right to cause trouble in the first meaningful relationship she'd had in centuries. "I pushed him away. You saw that."

Your lip trembled; finally, a reaction. A tear slid down your cheek. "It wasn't… pleasant to walk in on _that."_ You spat the last word out like filth.

Rowena gave a nod. It certainly was not; far from it. If it had been her, there would have been far more damage than some half-opened drawers. You'd handled it well, for a witch. For a girlfriend as protective as yourself.

"Would you be chill if it was you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but, with a snort, Rowena said, "Hell no."

"Exactly." You breathed in and out, pondering on the situation, on the words to come. Squinted against the blinding sun. When you spoke up, your voice was trembling like a bridge amidst a hurricane, "I just figured it was gonna happen, sooner or later."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Sam." You sniffled as tears drenched your face like a downpour. "I can't give you what you need. Not like he can."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I can't understand you like he can," you said with a whimper. "I can't make you better. But he can. You've been doing so much better ever since you started talking to him."

Rowena stared as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. Baffled. Dumbfounded to her core. You'd been there for her since day one. Even back when she was an evil witch who didn't give a damn about you, you were at her side. Not once had you given up on her. Not once had you turned your back on her. All she knew about love and kindness, you'd helped her rediscover. You'd helped her reawaken those parts of her she'd thought were long gone.

To think she would throw it all away for a hunter…

Sam had been an immense help. He'd been there for her when she was at her worst, at her most vulnerable. She'd come to care about him in ways she never thought she would. Had come to call him a close friend.

But that was all he was — a friend.

You, on the other hand, were the love of her life. Sam Winchester could never measure up to that.

"Sam is my _friend,"_ Rowena said, looking you straight in the eyes. Making sure she got her point across, loud and clear. "It's true he's been a tremendous help, but he's nothing more than a friend." She grabbed one of your hands. Squeezed it so hard her knuckles flashed white. "He is _not_ you."

No matter what he did, how good he treated her, he would never be you. Not even close.

"You're my wee lamb," she told you. A small smile bloomed on your mouth, and she grinned, victorious. "My lovely lass. My darling. My—"

"Okay, I get it," you said, chuckling. "You love me."

"I bloody do."

"I love you, too."

Oh, she knew. She'd known since the very start.

"I just… I don't wanna lose you," you admitted.

"You won't," Rowena assured you. "I'm hard to misplace, love."

"I don't know. You _are_ kinda small."

She pouted, feigning offense. "Mean."

You laughed. Then, face growing serious, said, "I don't want you to be alone with Sam anymore. It's not that I don't trust you — I do. But I don't trust him."

"Okay," Rowena said.

She usually would have fought such a demand. She was an independent woman, tough, strong willed. Nobody's little plaything. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, with whoever she wanted, no permission needed. No permission _wanted._ But, despite every single nerve in her, every cell, every fraction of her being, wanting to rebel, she understood why you were asking that of her.

Sam had crossed the line. You'd trusted him with her, and he'd broken that trust. Had crushed it in a way neither you nor Rowena had expected.

It may have been a moment of weakness, a moment of sheer vulnerability, but that didn't make it right.

"I will sort this out, darling," Rowena promised.

"Okay," you said with a small nod. "You do that. Because if I…" You swallowed, hard. "If he tries anything again…"

You would do more than just throw him into a wall.

The implication was clear. The threat lingering around the words left unsaid.

"He won't." Rowena swore it on her life.

Sam was a smart man; he could be reasoned with. He knew what he'd done was wrong.

He would be a bampot to try anything similar again.

As much as Rowena cared about him, she cared about you more. You came first. That much had to be clear to him.

Your hand captured in hers squeezed back, Fingers twined in an unbreakable knot. You gave her a smile, one of those bright, genuine ones that always made her heart jump. "You're my girl."

"You know it, dear," Rowena said, loud and proud. Ready to shout it to the moon and back.

She leaned against you, lowered her head on your shoulder. You pressed a soft kiss to her scalp and wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. Never wanting to let her leave.

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

You were stuck with her, for as long as you wanted to be. For as long as this cruel, cruel universe allowed it.

Hopefully forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by miss-moon-guardian.


End file.
